


Hug Me or Hit Me

by spoowriterfic



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoowriterfic/pseuds/spoowriterfic
Summary: Set after 303, Waverly knows she needs some help to help Nicole.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught
Comments: 5
Kudos: 211





	Hug Me or Hit Me

**Author's Note:**

> I keep telling myself, "Don't write any more post-episode stories until you know where the story is actually going." And then I...keep writing post-episode stories without knowing where the story is actually going.
> 
> Oops?
> 
> (I realized way too late that I was ignoring that Rachel was still in the house when Wynonna got nabbed in the barn so just, uh...go with it? Sorry about that. I'm usually way more meticulous but I like this story so much that I didn't want to try to shoehorn this in between Wynonna and Rachel talking and Wynonna getting nabbed.)

They check the traps.

They’re fine.

(Of course they’re fine. With Nedley de-Bigfooted, Waverly isn’t really sure that the Homestead is in any more actual danger, at least not from Nicole’s monsters…but she also recognizes deflection, depression, and anxiety — and, God, when has it ever been more clear that Wynonna and Nicole are more alike than even they realize — and if Nicole isn’t ready to talk yet, at least she’s willing to have Waverly with her while she goes through the rituals that she’s clearly used to hold herself at least somewhat together.)

Waverly tries not to think about the endless, endless months grinding away at Nicole — about how she probably set up a meticulous schedule with Rachel as she worked to defend the Homestead…and about how she probably took too many turns at these grim rounds so the kid could get a whole night’s sleep or some time to relax during the afternoon or….

Or any excuse Nicole can think of to bury herself in her rituals and ‘spare’ Rachel the trouble.

She tries not to think about Nicole not even knowing how much longer she’d have to wait. About how she could only count _up_ , not _down_ , and that just makes it worse.

She tries not to think about how profound a statement of love it is that Nicole would protect the Homestead for her for over a year and a half.

About how Nicole promised to wait for them in Purgatory.

About how Nicole, once upon a time, had promised to be there as long as Waverly wanted her.

About how another Nicole had looked into her eyes and promised, “Where you go, I go,” before they’d so much as kissed.

About how, as far as she is concerned, the entire definition of the word “loyalty” in the dictionary should be a picture of Nicole Rayleigh Haught’s face.

And she tries not to think about – feels vaguely _ashamed_ about – the warm glow that puts in the pit of her stomach because, all other things being equal, she would much rather still have that tiny instinctive kernel of doubt than this actual, literal, right-in-front-of-her _proof_ that that kind of true love and loyalty can exist in the real world.

That not only does it exist, but it’s _hers_.

She _knows_ now. She never again has to worry – because Nicole faced _all of this_ in the hope that one day Waverly would come back to her.

And, ironically, she realizes that it’s given her the foundation of strength she’s going to need to get Nicole through this.

Because she can see the toll it took on Nicole.

Of course she can.

Nicole can barely meet anyone’s eyes. She’s hunched over and defensive and skittish and had nearly been sent into a panic attack by Wynonna slamming a cabinet closed.

She has seen Nicole, briefly, flash into panic once before, though she only realized after the fact what it was. In the summer after Alice, they’d gone on a hike along the Ghost River, and they’d passed a nondescript wooden dock. Waverly remembered distinctly reveling in the scent of damp, sun-warmed wood carried towards them on a summer’s breeze.

And she remembers seeing Nicole stiffen and her nostrils flare and the look in her eyes that…even then, Waverly had thought she was seeing a child’s eyes in Nicole’s — and, she would find out later, she was. But then she’d been able to blink and shake her head and make an excuse that Waverly only realized later even _was_ an excuse.

But it’s never been like this.

She can imagine some of it.

She can imagine how it probably wasn’t that bad at the beginning. Nicole mentioned a broken leg, but she’s had more than her fair share of injuries, and that wouldn’t have so much as slowed her down. And at the beginning, she had to be sure that they’d appear at the door to the Homestead any second.

She can imagine how the little milestones started to creep up on her.

Getting the cast off her leg without Wynonna adorning it with lewd doodles.

(Waverly suddenly wonders…given the apparent state of Purgatory at the time, _had_ she even had a cast? Or had she splinted her leg herself and dealt with the pain of recovering from that without so much as an aspirin? How isolated _has_ she been out on the Homestead, if she can’t get almond milk even though she’d had no trouble getting some seitan at the local grocery store?)

Making it to three months.

And then six.

And then she would have faced so much so fast that the thought of it makes Waverly’s head spin and her heart clench in agony for its other half.

Waverly’s birthday. The anniversary of the day they met in Shorty’s. Of their first kiss. Their first actual date. Christmas. Nicole’s birthday. The day Waverly had learned the difference between having sex and making love. Valentine’s Day. The day they gave up Alice.

The day the Garden —

She can’t finish the thought.

Waverly lays in bed, running her fingers through Nicole’s new, longer hair, imagining all the ways all those days — all those hours…minutes… _seconds_ — would have tortured her and she wonders if Purgatory might be more literal a name than they’d ever given it credit for.

And then an alarm goes off on Nicole’s phone, not ten minutes after she finally drops into a fitful sleep.

She bolts upright, silencing it immediately with a muttered, “Sorry…sorry…forgot to put that on vibrate. Time to check the traps.” Nicole bites her lower lip, glances at Waverly, shies away from the love and compassion she can surely see in Waverly’s eyes, then down at the bed. “The schedule. You can come…if you want…but you should get some sleep.”

So Waverly puts aside the pain she feels on Nicole’s behalf and rests her hand on Nicole’s cheek, waiting until Nicole’s eyes stop darting around and really focus on her. “I would love to come with you, Nicole. Any time, okay? I love you and I always want to spend time with you. But it’s also okay if you want some alone time to…think or…process…or even just for no reason at all…okay?”

Nicole’s lips quirk in a grateful little smile and warmth floods back into her eyes.

Waverly has noticed, of course she has, how often that sparkle is missing. How often Nicole retreats so deeply into herself that not only does her face go blank but her eyes do too. But every once in a while, they catch and warm and there’s Nicole again.

“Thanks for understanding, Waves,” she said, wincing a little as her voice catches over Waverly’s name.

“Always.”

So Nicole goes back out to check the traps they’ve only just come back from checking less than an hour ago, because it’s _on the schedule_.

Waverly sits in her bed for a few moments, just running her fingers over the duvet in until she glances to the bedside table where she’d always had a picture of Nicole in her purple ball gown.

Instead, she sees her own face staring back at her.

Her jaw drops and her eyes fill with tears and suddenly it registers in a visceral way that it never, ever has before: Nicole woke up in this bed every single morning alone.

Alone with only a picture staring back at her.

For eighteen months, three weeks, and four days.

She can’t take it one second longer.

She grabs a dressing gown, puts on some slippers, and goes in search of Wynonna.

She finds her in the kitchen, swirling the liquid in a bottle of whiskey in front of her. “Wynonna?” she whispers, mindful of Rachel sleeping peacefully in Wynonna’s bed.

“Yeah?”

“Nicole went to check the traps again. We just got back, but – ”

“Yeah,” Wynonna says heavily, with a sidelong glance towards her sister. “I saw her. Don’t think she saw me, but I saw her.” Wynonna pauses a moment. “Baby Girl…she’s not okay.”

“I know,” Waverly says with a heavy sigh. “She needs help. But…Wynonna, I need help to help her.”

Wynonna exhales, nodding. “Well, she has a mean right cross, but I’ll risk it.” Wynonna’s lips quirk in a little grin. “Can’t let my best friend fall apart, now can I?”

Despite it all, Waverly can’t help but smile to hear Wynonna call Nicole that.

* * *

She doesn’t know which trap is which, but she does know every inch of the Homestead. It doesn’t take long to find Nicole, who is kneeling over a hand-dug hole in the ground with even-for-Nicole excessive attention to detail.

“Hey,” she says, watching as Nicole’s back first stiffens and then seems to collapse in on itself.

“Waverly sent you.”

Wynonna stands there, watching. It’s amazing how much you can tell about someone’s emotional state from behind, but she can see the waves of indignation, resignation, and exhaustion ripple through Nicole’s back in turn as clearly as if she could see Nicole’s face. “Well…I was gonna come anyway,” she says, “but yeah.”

Nicole still doesn’t turn around. She continues kneeling over the trap, fiddling with a metal something-or-other that is large and nasty-looking.

“I’m sorry, Nicole.”

“Don’t call me that!” Nicole snaps.

“What? ‘Nicole’? Didn’t think you loved my Haught jokes _that_ much.”

Nicole’s back deflates again. “You only call me that when you’re being…gentle…with me.”

“Shouldn’t I be? You’ve been through hell.” She can see the arguments on the tip of Nicole’s tongue, even without being able to see her face. “And don’t tell me you haven’t. If you’re ‘peachy,’ I’m President Seitan… _Nicole_.”

“Stop _calling_ me that!” Nicole growls. “Don’t be _gentle_ with me! I don’t deserve it.”

Wynonna snaps at that, marching forward, grabbing Nicole’s arm, and dragging her to her feet. “Don’t you _ever_ say that to me again!” She pulls hard on Nicole’s arm. “I don’t give a _shit_ about this town or your job or even the damn Homestead. You were _here_ for her to come back to! That is the only goddamn thing I care about and if the only thing you did was _survive_ so she could come back to you? Then you are a goddamn hero in my goddamn book and don’t you ever _fucking_ forget it, Nicole Haught!”

Nicole blinks at her; Wynonna can see the war raging behind her eyes.

“You do deserve it. You deserve everything, Nicole, because you _stayed_. You were _here waiting_ for my baby sister and there is nothing I can do that will _ever_ repay you for that.” She risks Nicole bolting but releases her arm anyway to take her hand instead. “She wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. That’s what finally got through to her on that damn throne.”

Nicole’s breath hitches. “Th-throne? I thought…?”

“I don’t think the stone thing was literal…I think…that place…the throne…it made her not… _feel_ …things. And then I showed her the ring and told her you’d say ‘yes’ to her…that’s what saved her, Nicole. That’s what got through to her. So don’t you _ever_ tell me you don’t deserve…anything. Because you do.”

She’s starting to break through, a little. She can see Nicole fighting herself. Her face flickers from that blank stare to herself and back again. Wynonna steps closer. “I’m sorry we were gone so long. I’m sorry I didn’t just pick up your ridiculously tall ass and drag you into the Garden with me. I’m sorry you had to do all…this…with just a weird sixteen-year-old and her kombucha.”

“I lost everything,” Nicole whispers. Then she looks at Wynonna and something snaps. “I lost _everything_ , Wynonna! Everything good in my entire life was _gone_! I lost my home and my job and my friends and…and _you_ and Waverly and…. I lost everything that ever mattered to me!”

“I know,” Wynonna says, coming closer. “I’m sorry, Nicole.”

Nicole scowls at her, but the brittleness at the edges is starting to dissipate. “It wasn’t so bad at first,” Nicole says and her eyes unfocus again but into memory, not the blank forcing-herself-not-to-feel stare. “Not at first. Not when I thought you all would come in the door any second.”

Wynonna sighs.

“And then one day I saw a hole in Waverly’s favorite jacket — the white one with the faux fur that she wore so much that winter? — and I realized there were mothballs and I’d have to…pack up her clothes and….” Her nostrils flare and there are tears in her eyes but more than anything she looks mad.

Mad and agonized and lost and self-loathing, all at once, and it breaks Wynonna’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” Wynonna says again, deliberately using the quiet, gentle voice she usually reserves for Waverly. “I am.”

“It’s not your _fault_ ,” Nicole snaps.

“Makes it worse, doesn’t it? You’ve got nowhere for all that mad to go.”

Something snaps, and Nicole turns back again, marching off towards the next trap without another word.

But Wynonna knows that instinct intimately, and she won’t let Nicole get away with it.

Instead, she follows her.

Nicole crouches over another foul-smelling hole in the ground, meticulously arranging something Wynonna can’t see.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know?” Wynonna says. “Traps, I mean. No more Bigfoot.”

Nicole flinches. “Oh, yeah, forgot to add that to the list. I spent a year and a half trying to kill the closest thing to a dad I’ve got!”

Wynonna raises an eyebrow. “You’re really gonna tell _me_ what it feels like to try do to the right thing and accidentally do something awful?”

She’s counting on the kind, compassionate person Nicole is at her core to react to that.

It works.

“That wasn’t…you did the best you could, Wynonna,” Nicole says — and just for a second, Nicole is fully present in the moment.

Wynonna pounces on it. “And you didn’t?”

Nicole scowls.

“You’re telling me that you, Nicole…what is your middle name, anyway?” She sees Nicole’s scowl deepen, and grins. “Oh, it’s embarrassing, isn’t it?” Nicole rolls her eyes and looks away. “I’ll get it out of Waverly eventually.”

Nicole sighs. “Rayleigh.”

Wynonna blinks at her, delighted. “Your middle name is ‘Really’? Your name is _really_ Nicole Really Hot?!”

“R-A-Y-L-E-I-G-H. Rayleigh. And there’s a reason I never told you that. I didn’t even tell _Waverly_ that until…well, she saw it when I changed my emergency contact paperwork.”

“We are very much coming back to this,” Wynonna warns Nicole, though she’s _trying_ to hide at least a little bit of her devilish anticipation. “But for now: you’re telling me that _you_ , Nicole Rayleigh Haught, _didn’t_ try your best during…” She waves her hands vaguely, the gesture encompassing the Homestead and the monsters in the woods and the year and a half of isolation. “…all of this.”

Nicole sighs deeply, but doesn’t dispute it, and Wynonna takes it as progress. She comes a bit closer again, and takes the phone right out of Nicole’s pocket. “Hey!”

“Turning off your alarms,” Wynonna says. “You’ve kept watch long enough, Nicole. Let some of us carry the load for a while.”

It takes a long, long moment, but then Nicole’s shoulders slump and she mutters, so quietly that Wynonna can barely hear her, “I’m not sure I remember how to do that.”

“I never learned in the first place…but Waves is good at making me.”

She hides a smile as she sees Nicole soften just a little at the mention of Waverly’s name. She’s still keyed up, still waiting for disaster at every turn, and Wynonna can tell it’s going to take a lot of time and a lot of care for Nicole to begin to heal from whatever hell she’s gone through the last eighteen months, but even if everything else has changed, it’s clear that her adoration of Waverly absolutely has not.

They stand there looking at each other for a while, and Wynonna at least feels their history swirling between them. Then Nicole breaks eye contact with a little sigh. “I should…get back….”

But Wynonna isn’t _quite_ done yet.

“Wait,” she says, and she can’t help but catch the way Nicole flinches. “You need…something. So you get a choice…before we’re done.” She steps closer, facing Nicole squarely. “You don’t go inside until you hug me or hit me.”

Nicole frowns at her. “What?”

“Well, I’d get it if you want to hit me for not dragging you and your broken leg through that portal. But I’d also get it if you just need a hug.” She smiles gently. “They can help a lot. Waverly taught me that too.”

Nicole stands there, frozen, eyes wide, as though she can’t quite process that any of this is happening. Then, with a quiet sound suspiciously like a sob, she staggers forward a step and collapses into Wynonna’s waiting arms.

Wynonna can feel her shaking. She can feel the unevenness of her breathing and she’s pretty sure she can also feel eighteen months of loneliness and fear and guilt and grief in the way Nicole’s arms are clenched tightly around her.

Wynonna pulls her even closer, murmuring, “We shoulda known all along she was an angel.” She can feel Nicole take a breath to say something, but she interrupts her: “‘Cause a few words from her can heal a whole lot if you let it.”

“What’d she say to you?” Nicole chokes out as she pulls back.

Wynonna smiles and meets her eyes. “‘I can’t promise it’ll be okay. But I promise I’m here.’” She squeezes Nicole’s upper arm. “We’re all here, Nicole.” She can see Nicole getting antsy and it’s clear she’s pushed as far as she can for now. “Hey,” she adds as one last parting shot. “The love of your life is an angel…go let her be all angely and take care of you.”

She lets Nicole go ahead of her, waiting in the quiet of a Purgatory winter night until she hears booted footsteps approaching. “What are you doin’ out here this late?” Doc asks.

“Nicole,” is all she says, but she can see him nod in understanding.

“It _is_ difficult to be alone and cut off from everything you have known,” he says, shadows in his eyes. “But we will help her heal. I owe her recompense in any event.”

Wynonna snorts cynically. “Ain’t one of us who hasn’t done dumb shit, and ain’t one of us who isn’t broken in a thousand ways.”

“And yet, we survive,” Doc says. “I will keep watch tonight,” he adds. “You deserve your rest too.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

She walks back towards the house, pulling up with a frown that turns into a laugh when she sees Rachel closing the front door behind herself with a very teenager roll of her eyes. “Already?”

Rachel shoots her a slightly desperate look. “They’re so _loud_ ,” she whispers.

“Thin walls don’t help,” Wynonna says sagely as she puts an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Come on into the barn,” she says. “My stash of headphones should still be in there.”

“Do they help?”

Wynonna shrugs. “Well….”

Rachel follows her to the barn and sits on a bale of hay. Wynonna can’t help but notice that they’ve been stacked neatly – and strategically – along the wall. “I’m happy for her…for them…I am,” Rachel says, and Wynonna can see the sincerity in her eyes before it turns into something approaching desperation as she adds, “I just…I wanna _sleep_.”

Wynonna hands over a small box filled with a variety of headphones with a laugh. “Welcome to the family, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have I mentioned that I adore Rachel? Because I kinda adore Rachel.
> 
> Look, I adore WayHaught's relationship, but I absolutely love the relationship between Nicole and Wynonna just as much. Their storyline in the first two episodes was amazing, and I loved how they handled Nicole slowly softening and getting to a point of "you screwed up but I love you."
> 
> I really do think, in lots of fundamental ways, they are the same person. Neither of them deals well with trauma. Nicole apparently first went through a bad girl phase and then threw herself into her career and protecting others. Wynonna absolutely goes through a bad girl phase and then throws herself into protecting others (just with more whiskey than Nicole).
> 
> I was saying on Twitter (@spoowriter) that one thing I'm loving is that there's two things going on simultaneously with Nicole: (1) the trauma from being alone and (2) the guilt from whatever deal she made. You'll notice I avoided #2 entirely because we just don't know yet. 
> 
> Finally, in general, one thing I love about this show is that every single one of them are human (even the supernatural folks) and makes bad choices now and then (often from desperation) and rather than hold grudges, they just work together to fix whatever the mess is and go on.


End file.
